<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>If I Had A Heart by tiger_moran</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393016">If I Had A Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran'>tiger_moran</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lyric [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, Aromantic Character, Caring, Don't copy to another site, Insecurity, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Oriented Aroace, aroace character, referenced Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:07:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393016</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Seventh in a collection of standalone but also interconnected Moriarty and Moran fics inspired by lyrics from songs, particularly pop/rock songs.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sebastian Moran/James Moriarty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lyric [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992709</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>If I Had A Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fever Ray – If I Had A Heart</p><p>This will never end 'cause I want more<br/>More, give me more<br/>Give me more</p><p>If I had a heart I could love you</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Moran sits cross-legged on the floor, sheets of old newspaper laid out before him, methodically cleaning one of his rifles as Moriarty enters the sitting room.<br/>
<br/>
“If you had any sense you'd let me take this and shoot 'im,” Moran says without looking up. He has a cigarette wedged in the corner of his mouth still, freeing up both of his hands momentarily to clean the gun.</p><p class="western">“Perhaps,” Moriarty says. He is not in the mood for arguments with Moran, and it troubles him, not only that that damned detective has prevented one of his elegantly planned schemes from coming to fruition, but that Moran seems to be annoyed with <em>him</em> about it, irritated by Moriarty's lack of rage towards Holmes almost as much as he is angered by Holmes himself. But the Colonel doesn't understand, that for someone to spring up out of all the tedium and dross of London, someone with a mind capable of seeing one of the Professor's plans and foiling it most thoroughly, it is interesting. Very, very interesting. Irksome too, of course, but even so... it is unexpected, and Moriarty still appreciates novelty in his life. He would never have invited Moran to share his life so intimately if he did not.</p><p class="western">Moran is upset though, trying to hide it behind a wall of mostly silence save for his occasional comments about wanting to put a perfectly placed bullet through Holmes's skull. When Moriarty rests his hand lightly against the back of the Colonel's neck, he flinches slightly, and that stings, that Moran could react so to him.</p><p class="western">“Are you jealous, pet?” Moriarty asks.</p><p class="western">Moran freezes, staring straight ahead as he reaches and removes the cigarette from his mouth. He holds it, smouldering, in the air before him, before he finally twists his head around to look up at the Professor. “Of Holmes?” And there is such incredulity in his tone, Moriarty might almost believe him to be shocked or offended even, but he waited a beat too long to respond, and the Professor is sure then, Moran <em>is</em> jealous, but he does not press the matter.</p><p class="western">There are times when Moriarty is more keenly aware than others of the divide that exists between himself and Moran. Moran... seems to react far more from the heart, and there seems to be something very visceral about his feelings that Moriarty does not understand. Likewise Moran cannot seem to understand why Moriarty would be interested in a potential opponent rising up, why Moriarty needs mental stimulation so much, or why he refuses to simply dispose of Holmes before the man becomes an even greater irritant, and now the primary emotion he seems to be feeling is jealousy, as if Moriarty is interested in <em>romancing</em> Holmes.</p><p class="western">“He only... intrigues me,” Moriarty says.</p><p class="western">Moran only scoffs at this. “<em>Intrigues</em>,” he says. “And that will get you arrested, killed even, if you allow him to <em>intrigue</em> you too much.” He rests the gun across his lap and holds the cigarette between his long fingers, gesturing with it towards the Professor as he peers up at him. “Look you're the genius, I'm just the lowly servant.”</p><p class="western">“There is nothing lowly about you, my boy.” Moriarty rests his hand against Moran's shoulder, and this time the Colonel doesn't flinch.</p><p class="western">“I know you think I don't understand though,” Moran says. “And you're right, I don't. I don't see what... what interests you about him.” Sex, he might understand, if the Professor wished to bed the detective, but it probably isn't about that; instead it is about something else that Moran does not understand at all and as such he is afraid, not only for the Professor's life but that the focus of Moriarty's interest will shift from him to Sherlock Holmes, for Moran has always been painfully aware too that he is not brilliant, not intelligent in the same way as the Professor. He has long been sure also that there will inevitably come a time when the Professor grows bored with him and casts him aside.</p><p class="western">“He simply... presents a challenge.” Moriarty allows his hand to drift across to rest against the back of Moran's neck. “Surely you understand that, don't you? The thrill of the hunt, the risk, the danger?”</p><p class="western">“Hmm,” Moran says, pure cynicism in his tone, but he is melting under the touch – he cannot help himself, and he cannot hold onto his anger any longer. He drops his gaze, bowing his head, letting the Professor run his fingertips gently up and down the back of his neck.</p><p class="western">“Much of life is commonplace.”</p><p class="western">“That include me?”</p><p class="western">“Of course not. You are a rare and precious jewel, Sebastian. The rest of the world though... it is so mundane; there is so much mediocrity out there.”</p><p class="western">“But Holmes is not 'mediocre'?” Moran asks, looking up again, narrowing his eyes.</p><p class="western">“He is... of potential interest. But not like you, my dove.” He notices Moran's flush of pleasure at this term of endearment, and the way the tension seeps out of him under his caress.</p><p class="western">Moriarty still finds himself wondering often, does he love Moran? Is he even capable of experiencing such an emotion? For what Moran feels for him, it is different to Moriarty's regard for Moran. Even so... there is the feeling of warmth and pride he experiences when he makes Moran smile, or that feeling in his chest sometimes that is almost exquisitely painful when Moran looks at him in a particularly trusting way, or the stab of pain he experiences when he imagines something terrible happening to Moran or even Moran ceasing to care about him. Is that what love is, not simply pleasure, not all warmth and softness but something sharp sometimes, something bittersweet? A sick terror of losing the object of one's desire even? Or is that mere possessiveness?</p><p class="western">Moriarty had never thought previously that he has a heart except in the most literal sense, but now he has been forced to question that belief, although he still seems a long way from finding a conclusive answer. It is at least clear to him though that if anyone is going to be on the receiving end of his love, it can only be Moran. Nobody else has caught the Professor's interest as the Colonel has. This meddlesome detective... he may prove to be another minor distraction from the general commonplaces of existence but Moran – his right hand man, his close companion – is far more than some minor distraction.</p><p class="western">Moran sets the rifle down onto the floor and he stands up, a little shorter than Moriarty, but still now closer to being on his level. “I just worry about you.” He catches the Professor's hand, holds it, draws it close so that he may kiss the back of it.</p><p class="western">“I know you do.”</p><p class="western">“And all right, yeah, maybe I'm jealous and all.”</p><p class="western">Moriarty raises his eyebrow slightly at this, a little surprised that Moran would admit this. “You need not be.”</p><p class="western">Moran was almost expecting anger at this admission, but Moriarty's tone remains level and calm. “I can't turn it off just like that,” Moran says. “Nor my fears about 'im.”</p><p class="western">“Sebastian, chick, stop worrying.”</p><p class="western">“I can't 'elp it.” Because the Professor, in his own way, is likely just as reckless, just as self-destructive as Moran, and in his constant quest to seek distraction from life he may not always be entirely sensible.</p><p class="western">“I know.”</p><p class="western">As Moriarty slides his hands around Moran's waist, drawing him into an embrace, Moran closes his eyes. “I<em>...</em>” <em>I love you</em>, he does not say, because he is sure the Professor will not like that and that speaking of such matters out loud will spoil everything somehow. “It's just... Well you said it, sir – the thrill of the hunt, I understand that, but I know how easily one's prey can turn around and try to take a bite out of you. I've <em>seen</em> men mauled to death by the very tigers they were huntin', Professor.” Those images... he still sees them in his dreams sometimes, and he likely will be haunted by them until his dying day.</p><p class="western">“I know, but when Holmes becomes more irritating than interesting we shall deal with him.” Moriarty leans forward and places a kiss on the Colonel's forehead. “Now stop thinking about him and think about <em>me</em>.”</p><p class="western">Moran laughs softly. “I always do,” he says.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>